Pokers Are The Food Of Love
by duchess-susan
Summary: Another Teatime/Susan fic.
1. Chapter 1

Pokers Are The Food Of Love

**As always with my Teasus fics thanks to She Who Shines and Purple Peanutbutter. And to coffee-mill for all the lovely reviews. Also to My Immortal Soul-thank you for the review, hope you see this, wish you weren't anonymous so I could thank you properly. Welcome to the third instalment of my Teatime/Susan series (anyone who hasn't read 'Pokers, Swords and Lifetimers' or 'Inhumations, Educations and EyeRollings' doesn't need to, to understand this fic. But it might help). Right that's enough of me. Read and review-please?**

There was so much Susan still didn't understand. She had mentioned this to Death on her last visit, in an unusual lapse of judgement.

WELL THE DISC IS VERY COMPLEX SUSAN. I'M NOT SURPRISED AND IT SHOULDN'T WORRY YOU. He had replied.

'I meant about Teatime, grandfather.'

AH. Death wasn't sure what else to say. He didn't understand _anyone _human, except for Albert, perhaps. Mainly because Albert's existence consisted of frying things, bitterness and gardening.

'I mean he can be so sweet sometimes and then he starts talking about death.'

WHAT'S WRONG WITH TALKING ABOUT ME? Death suddenly started paying a lot more attention. WHAT DOES HE SAY? IF IT'S NASTY...

Susan just stared. Did he really care if someone talked badly about him? He was _Death. _Most people were hardly positive on the subject. 'I mean that he talks about inhumations, or his knife. Not about you.'

OH. AND THIS ISN'T NORMAL BEHAVIOUR FOR A YOUNG MAN?

'No!'

THERE WAS NO NEED FOR THAT TONE. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW? IT'S NOT AS THOUGH I'VE EVER COURTED ONE, NOW IS IT?

Susan glared. 'I should be going.'

Death was aware that he had said something wrong, although he had very little idea of what it was. Maybe it had been telling her not to worry about the infinite mysteries of the Disc.

ANOTHER CUP OF TEA WOULDN'T HURT, WOULD IT? OR WE COULD PLAY CHESS. I STILL HAVEN'T QUITE GOT THE HANG OF IT.

Susan relented a little. 'One game of chess. Then I really have to go.'

_In case Teatime has inhumed anyone or anything whilst I was away._


	2. Chapter 2

**Teatime makes his appearance, religion, standards of assassination and the definition of 'intact' are discussed. Enjoy and review.**

'Susan, you're home!' Teatime bounced up as soon as she opened the door, like a hyperactive puppy, his one good eye twinkling, the glass one gleaming maliciously.

'Yes.' Susan couldn't manage more than a word in reply, as she was too busy checking the room for any bloodstains, scratch marks or even just an ornament in the wrong place.

'Something wrong?'

_Not that I can see. _'Did anything happen while I was gone?'

'I got very bored.'

'Anything _else?'_

'Apparently the Assassin's Guild has obtained a contract on me.'

'WHAT? And you told me that you got bored _first?'_

'Being bored was more of an annoyance, I assure you.'

'Where's the assassin?'

'Back at the Guild.'

'Intact?'

'Oh yes.'

'Really?'

'Really. Just not breathing.'

'You killed him,' she said flatly.

'He tried to stab me. We compared knives. Mine was better.'

Susan spoke dangerously calmly. 'And how does a stab wound count as intact?'

'He _was _in one piece. It was self-defence.'

Susan just rolled her eyes.

'Besides,' he continued, 'the next time they try to inhume me they might pay a better assassin.' He pouted. 'The one they sent around this time was, frankly, insulting. He occupied my attention for all of a few seconds.'

The rolling of her eyes was upgraded to a slam of her head into her hands.

'He was trying to _kill _you and you're complaining that he wasn't _better _at it.'

'How many times? Inhume. It's really not a very difficult word. At all. And I think that, as a customer, technically, I have a right to a certain standard of service.'*

'Oh my gods.'

'And which would those be?'

'I'm sorry?'

Teatime gave her a look she had come to know and hate as "patient". For most people it defined the time between Teatime seeing you and Teatime's knife knowing you. 'Which gods are the subject of your worship?'

'Teatime it was just an expression!'

'Then perhaps you should find another. Like oh random particle fluctations or oh my demons or something.'

'That wouldn't be normal.'

'Good.'

Susan gave up at this point.

*Even death hadn't lessened Teatime's grasp of death from an assassin's perspective.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hmm-as usual I have no idea where this fic is going so I guess I'll have to wait and see like everyone else.**

'Susan?'

'What now?'

'Do you ever think of what will happen to us?'

'I prefer not to.' _It would be too weird._

'So what do you think about?'

'What on disc are you trying to get at?' Susan had the shrewd idea that he was only starting this conversation to annoy her. So she would annoy him right back. 'Actually don't answer that. I'll answer you first. I think about what our relationship is actually based on.' _Ha that should get him._

'Oh. But you _know _that.'

'Do I?'

'Yes!' Teatime smiled, and despite herself Susan found it rather attractive, in a lop-sided way. 'Our relationship is based on pokers, violence, your volatile temper and my various and interesting skills.'

'That's one way of putting it.'

Teatime grinned. 'Exactly. You agree. We will last forever, because our relationship is completely unique. No one else has one like it.'

'No because they have more sense.'

'Who said sense was a desirable quality?'

Susan just glared. She would tell him to stop being so contrary, but she knew that he was actually, honestly, asking that question. 

'It just is.'

'But sense says the poker is not the most efficient weapon in the world, and I can testify, that, in certain hands it is.'


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry it's been so long. I had a spot of writer's block. Please, please review.**

Susan was trying to figure out exactly how being Death's granddaughter had led to her relationship with Teatime. Or rather how being Death's granddaughter had warped her enough to make embarking on a relationship with a crazed and unstable assassin seem like an _attractive _idea. She was fairly certain that the two conditions had to be mutual, as she seemed to be the only person suffering from both.

_I mean no one normal would think that a man for whom physics is just a word would be a decent prospect. No one normal would find that poker-sparring makes for an interesting and exciting love life. No one normal would consider a man they MURDERED as a suitor. No one normal would consider anyone who tried to inhume them, either._

'You're _thinking _again, aren't you Susan?' The tone was accusatory.

'What else do you suggest I do?'

Teatime shrugged. 'Think of something _else. _That doesn't make you frown so. And, maybe, makes me smile. You know I've never met anyone who _didn't _prefer me smiling.' He was staring at her.

'Oh, but I'm thinking of _you, _TEAtime.'

'Really?' His knife was suddenly tracing interesting patterns on her neck, _just _too gently to draw blood. 'Then I suggest you get my name _right._ I'm sure I don't know _what _could be causing this peculiar mental block you seem to have. _Teh-Ah Tim-eh, _Susan. It's not difficult. What kind of woman can't even get her lover's _name _right.'

Susan had to stop her jaw from dropping. '_What _did you just say?'

'You heard, and I do so _hate _repeating myself.'

'We are _not _lovers.'

'What else would you call two unrelated people who live together and enjoy frequent poker based activity?'

'Residential enemies.'

Teatime looked thoughtful. 'Well, maybe we're that too. Anyway being residential enemies keeps our relationship exciting and if it weren't diverting I don't know _what _might happen.'

Susan just sighed.

'Oh. You're looking exasperated. Should I fetch the fireside equipment?' Teatime grinned.


End file.
